These Wicked Games
by BlueSkyEyes
Summary: Ethan Chandler and Vanessa Ives, two equally battered souls, learn to find comfort in each other as they try to come to terms with their inner demons. When Madame Kali sends the devil's servants to capture Vanessa's soul, Ethan vows to protect her. But will his efforts prove to be enough? Or will Vanessa give in to the darkness?
1. New Beginnings

Chapter 1 – New Beginnings

Blood. That's the first thing he becomes aware of. The metallic smell clings to the air, to his clothes…to his skin. Not again, he thinks. Please, no. Slowly, hesitantly, he opens his eyes. A bone-splitting ache bolts through his head. It's enough for him to shut his eyes again, but he doesn't…he can't. Gingerly, he sits up, head swivelling from side to side.

Ethan Chandler gets up on shaky legs. The sight that greets him sends his stomach roiling. Somehow, when he woke up, when that familiar metallic tint invaded his senses, he should have known what to expect. But not this, never this… Bodies lay strewn across the pub floor, mutilated, limbs missing. He stumbles forward, grips onto a splintered railing. Ethan catches sight of his reflection in a nearby windowpane. He balks, staggering backwards, into the bar. Any surviving glasses from the night before, crash to the floor as Ethan flails for purchase.

He spins around, seeks out a rusty, old sink and makes his way over to it. As he splashes the cold water over his face, he realises that he might be hyperventilating. Ethan's hands shoot out to grip at the sink rim. He gulps, desperately trying to fight the rising bile. He manages to take a few deep, albeit unsteady, breaths. In, out, in, out… In the back of his mind, somewhere deep and dark and almost untouched, Ethan knows he has to leave. Rid London of the menace that is him. This thing…this _beast, _it will never stop hungering for blood. And there is nothing he could ever do to stop it. But…if only leaving were that easy.

Ethan steps back from the sink and turns around to face the gruesome massacre that his alter ego surely must have passionately enjoyed. Cautiously, he steps over and around the torn bodies scattered all over. Heaving a deep breath in, Ethan opens the pub door. A blast of icy wind cuts through him. He shivers, hesitates. He casts a nervous look over his shoulder and finds the bodies of the bounty hunters. A deep scowl takes up residence on his face. Not all of these people deserved to die like this – except them, he thinks. Finally, Ethan steps into the white, wintery world of London, stuffing his hands far down his coat pockets. Head bowed, avoiding any and all eye contact, Ethan marches down the street.

With Brona, he might have had a reason to stay. He had someone to come back to every night, someone he could fight for. Yes, she was dying, but that never lessened his devotion in her. He loved her, but perhaps he loved Miss Ives even before Brona. It felt easier with Vanessa. He found something in her that he understood, that he could relate to…this thing that she can't control, this darkness that has burrowed itself deep into her soul – it plagues his life, too. And God, does he feel for her. Maybe since the day he met her, in that dingy pub, he's known. A connection born of a similar conflicting madness. And as much as he tries, he cannot help but gravitate towards her. Ethan's breath hitches as he comes to a sudden realisation.

The reason he never could leave, it wasn't because of Brona. It was because of Miss Ives. She's unknowingly and perhaps not of her own accord, managed to burrow deep into his heart. She's made herself a home there…and it would seem she intends to stay there.

Ethan looks up to find himself passing by a church, faith-goers leaving by the dozen. Ethan scoffs and shakes his head – faith. Just another thing he'll never fully come to terms with. And then, the faintest whiff of ink and parchment, intermingled with that smell of the _other_, raids his senses. Ethan comes to a dead stop, head shooting up. There, amongst the crowd leaving the church grounds, is one Vanessa Ives, her beautiful, pale face framed by a mass of wavy, black tresses. Ethan frowns at the sadness etched into her features. Before his mind can make sense of it, he is moving forward.

He catches her as she passes the black, wrought iron gate. Ethan reaches out for her wrist. Vanessa gasps and spins around.

"Miss Ives, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Ethan says. He bows his head as a couple passes by. He can feel their judging stares, burning holes into the back of his head.

"Oh, Mr Chandler," Vanessa smiles, releasing a small sigh. Ethan notices that her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's quite alright." Her gaze wanders down to the collar of his shirt. He follows her eyes and stares at the blood stain there. "Mr Chandler, is everything alright?" Vanessa whispers, stepping closer to a pale Ethan. How could he be so stupid? He thinks. Vanessa reaches out to touch at his coat sleeve, decorated with blood splatters. "Ethan?"

Ethan snaps his gaze up. "Uh…yeah," he nods dumbly. Ethan searches her pale, blue eyes and remembers something. With a smile, he shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah, everythin's alright. Just…another one of them brawls," he laughs nervously. Vanessa stares at him a moment, gaze appraising him thoughtfully, before she smiles.

"I…I was hopin' to ask a favour. I need your help," Ethan starts, flicking his gaze around. He starts to realise that he might look like something similar to a trapped deer. "But, if you don't mind, maybe we could talk somewhere else?"

Vanessa follows the path of his nervous gaze and nods. "Of course, Mr Chandler," she says. Ethan breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that she understands. "Follow me, I have a carriage waiting."

Ethan nods. He sends a last look to the looming church over his shoulder, before moving on. Ethan glances at Vanessa's side profile and clears his throat. "You come here often?" he asks.

"No."

He watches her throat as she swallows, nodding his head. Vanessa slows her pace slightly and says, "I try."

Ethan frowns, confused. At his silence, Vanessa elaborates. "I try to attend church as often as I can. But…I highly doubt the good Lord has any favours for me." Vanessa looks at him a moment, her delicate brow creased. When she returns her gaze to the path ahead, Ethan says, "At least you try. That should stand for somethin', Miss Ives."

"Yes. I too, would like to think so."

After that, they walk on in silence. Vanessa couldn't fool him, though. Perhaps everyone else, but not him. He senses her hesitation, her fear. She's afraid of herself, he realises and Ethan feels a wave of empathy wash over him. Slowly, he moves closer to Vanessa until their shoulders brush with every step they take. This is all the comfort he can offer her. _No_, he corrects himself. _This_ _is the only comfort he can allow_. When Vanessa's dainty hand brushes against his own, his thoughts wander. _But, maybe_…

_No! He cannot permit these feelings to come to the forefront. _Above everything else, he has to protect her. From herself, but more importantly, from_ himself_. With that last thought firmly set in place, Ethan steps back slightly, breaking their contact. He feels the wall erecting itself; thick, tall, all-encompassing. And he is helpless to stop it.

He can't let anyone in. Not ever again.


	2. You Are Not The Same

_ A/N: Oh, man. So... this took way longer than I thought! Of course, trying to juggle this with college work and the flu, could probably do that to one's story. Anyway... I hope you guys are enjoying this and for those of you who have reviewed, followed or favourited this story, I'm really grateful. Just a little change - I've decided to write in first person (thanks to CrowJane for the wonderful advice). It's weird having to write in a novelistic format when all I've been writing for almost two years now, have been screenplays... and the difference in format for those two are vastly different. _

_So, I don't want to drag this AN out too much, so I'll let you guys jump right back into the story. And I really do apologise for the long wait - I promise, it won't happen again! Enjoy :)_

* * *

Chapter 2 – You Are Not The Same

When we finally arrive at Sir Malcolm's mansion, Sembene still belies no emotion. I don't know whether to find that comforting or troubling. Either way, whatever the reason, I don't find myself minding in the least. I release a puff of breath, running a hand through my already haphazard hair. No more piercing stares, I think. That feeling of relief only intensifies when the front door slams shut behind us. Vanessa shoots me a smile over her shoulder.

"There's a washroom down the hall, Mr Chandler," she says. Vanessa reaches out to me, her elegant eyebrows arching. "Your coat?"

"Oh, right." I shrug out of my coarse, blood-coated overcoat. "You really don't have to."

"You needed my help, didn't you?" she asks, her smile still firmly in place. I can't help but feel hesitant. The last time I had someone care for me, was in America… at home. A very, very long time ago. I see them now, thoughts of my mother flashing through my mind; her tender-hearted gaze as she tucked me into bed, her soft smile as she tended to my scraped knee… her cold, lifeless eyes staring up at me, her body so motionless, so unaware.

With that last thought branded into my mind's eye, I snap my train of thought back to the present. Vanessa's smile has vanished. I find her understanding, empathetic gaze and perhaps, I realise, I might have found a kindred spirit.

"Go on. I'll be back shortly," Vanessa reassures. I nod and turn to make my way down the hall. Sighing, I run my hand along the smooth softness of the wood-panelled wall. With my other hand, I reach up to undo the buttons on my shirt. This feeling of luxury at my fingertips really has become something foreign to me. As wealthy as my parents were, they didn't quite have _this_. Nonetheless, we still had more than most people would ever own in their entire lives.

I shuffle over to a single granite-top table. On top of it, sits a ceramic washbasin with a silver tap head reaching over it in a shiny arch. Above it, is a mirror decorated with fine scratches on the edges. The washroom is modest. The floor is a quilt of off-white tiles. In the far corner, stands a white, claw-foot bath and right beside it, a decent toilet. I bend down, splash some water over my face. My heart leaps at the fresh iciness of the temperature.

I should have expected it. After all, that same feeling of dread, where the hairs on the nape of my neck stand to attention, always seems to foreshadow _him_. My alter ego. So, it really is no surprise that, when I come back up, I glimpse at a face with glowing yellow eyes and lips pulled back to reveal sharp fangs. And yet, I still cry out and stumble back. My hands fly up to my face and I frantically feel for the large, sharp teeth.

"You are not the same," Sembene says from the washroom doorway. I start, spin around to face the African man in all his stoic glory. Sembene holds a clean towel and fresh shirt, all neatly folded.

"What?" I ask, confused and slightly annoyed. Of all the times he had to catch me off guard, this had to be one of them? Sembene steps forward.

"You are different, in some way," Sembene explains. Almost gingerly, he places the towel and shirt on the granite-top table. I shake my head, a frown quickly pulling at my eyebrows.

"Don't pretend like you know me, 'cause you sure as hell don't," I snap.

Sembene turns to leave. When he reaches the doorway, he stops, turns his head to the side. "I am not sure you know who you are yourself, Mr Chandler." With that, Sembene leaves in a flash of silence.

I don't know what to say, or how to feel. What if Sembene is right? What if I don't know who I really am? I realise that the possibility of that being true, is overwhelmingly large. I'm always staring at my reflection in a lone mirror, whether it be in a pub, nursing a drink, or on my own, in some dingy room with stained bed sheets and a toilet that doesn't flush. One thing will always remain as clear as a sunny day – I'm not the same Ethan Chandler that I was.

And it's the matter of finding out who I really am that will either become my doom, or my much dreamed-about salvation.

000

When I find Vanessa, she's not alone. Sir Malcolm, hands resting on her shoulders, turns his smiling gaze to me. I almost scoff out loud at his attempt at a smile. His grey eyes are narrowed, distant almost. I sense his trepidation – it hangs thick in the air surrounding him. _Holding up appearances_, I think. _Well, two can play at this game_. I return his simulated smile with one of my own and reach out my hand in greeting. Sir Malcolm takes it stiffly.

"Mr Chandler. Miss Ives was kind enough to inform me of your presence," Sir Malcolm says. "I believe you need my help?"

"I do. If you're willin', of course," I reply, releasing his hand.

"Of course. Follow me, Mr Chandler."

Sir Malcolm strides from the entrance hall without another word. I glance at Vanessa, hoping to gauge her mood, but find only her impeccably put-together, steely gaze. I wonder, is she aware of Sir Malcolm's façade? With a sigh, I follow after Sir Malcolm at a slower pace, making sure to mentally prepare myself for anything that the older man might throw at me.

I step into the vast library, shut the door behind me. Sir Malcolm stands with his back to me, overlooking the square below from a tall window. The soft, orange glow of street lamps floods the room with a foreboding sense. Immediately, I stiffen. _Oh boy, this might not end well_, I think.

"Why are you here, Mr Chandler?" Sir Malcolm starts.

I step further into the room. "Well, I was hopin' to ask if I could stay here for a while? Just until –"

Sir Malcolm turns around, eyes as hard as steel. "No. Why are you here? What is it that you truly want, hm?"

"I – I don't possibly know what you mean, Sir. Look, I need a place to stay, just for a while," I say. Sir Malcolm stares, unflinching in his intensity. "Please," I think to add. Without his consent, I would have nowhere to go. It seems an individual's reputation spreads like wild fire around these parts.

"You might have Miss Ives and Sembene fooled, Mr Chandler, but not me. Never me."

This comment gets my hackles raised, so to speak. I clench my fists. "I'm not foolin' anyone, Sir Malcolm," I defend. "Especially not Miss Ives."

"Even so," Sir Malcolm advances, hands clasped behind his back. "I have prepared alternate arrangements. I have a friend in the lower district of London who would be more than willing to be of service. At a fair price, of course."

I lower my head, nodding absentmindedly. Lower district of London… that would mean being in the open and having to deal with more probing, unwanted stares. I fight the urge to snarl and meet Sir Malcolm's icy stare with one of my own. "Well… that's awfully kind of you, Sir."

Sir Malcolm brushes past me. "I shall arrange a carriage. Sembene will accompany you," Sir Malcolm says. I stare at the window and scoff at my luck. Even while I shake my head, I realise that I fully and unquestionably understand Sir Malcolm's actions. He's only trying to protect Vanessa. Really, I can't blame the older man; she's become more than just a useful guest.

I snort – guest being a very loose term, in Vanessa's case. Sighing, I turn to leave. _Alright, Ethan, it's time to make new friends,_ I think sarcastically as I slam the library door shut behind me.

000

The orange cast of street lights glow into the night. Lounging on the carriage seat, I fiddle impatiently with the pocket watch at my waist. _Not only is the old fool chasing me away, but now he's making me wait, too_, I think irritably. That rich, pompous, son of a –

The carriage door swings open. My train of thought slams to a halt at the sight of Vanessa stepping in.

"Vanessa? What are you doin'?

Vanessa sits down opposite me with a small chuckle. "Why, I'm accompanying you, of course," she jests good-naturedly.

"No, I mean, what are you doin'? Sir Malcolm will surely have my head for this," I say, my gaze turning to watch Sir Malcolm stand stiffly in the entryway to his mansion.

"Oh, please. Stop fretting, I came of my own volition," she assures. The carriage jolts forward as I turn to shoot her a smile. A comfortable silence stretches itself through the carriage, hanging like soft mist after a rainy night. I feel every fibre of my being gravitate towards this easy feeling. So many people have their needs, their wants… their dreams, in life. Get a good job, marry, have children, settle down. But this? This feeling of quiet solitude, it's definitely something worth living for, something _I _could live for. When I feel my eyes begin to droop, Vanessa speaks softly.

"You seem overly troubled, Mr Chandler."

Silence. The muffled sound of the bustling London streets reaches us through an open window in the carriage. Vanessa glances at me.

"You are a good man, Ethan. And you have done so much good by helping in our search for Mina. You've… You've been awfully kind to me. Surely, that could suffice as enough comfort?" Vanessa says, her voice so delicate, so soft.

I stare at her for what feels like a very long time before I answer. "I wish that were true, Miss Ives. I wish for that every night I lay awake in bed. But… I've come to learn that… you can't change who you are, no matter who you save, or who you help." I drop my gaze to the carriage floor, clear my throat. "I… I might even have given up on trying a very, very long time ago."

The harsh, _clip-clop_ sound of the horse hooves over the cobbled streets of London is my only answer for quite some time. Vanessa drops her gaze to her lap, almost as if she was aware of what I meant. Could she possibly understand this feeling? Even with everything she's been through, could it truly be possible?

And then, suddenly, I sense it too late.

It happens so fast, too fast. Vanessa makes to reply, mouth moving to form the words, when the carriage comes to a sudden, jolting stop. Outside, the horses screech with fear. The coach flips over, creaking and groaning in the abnormal movement. Vertigo kicks in and Vanessa falls forward. I anticipate the action just in time, as I reach out my arms to break her fall. She crashes into me with a gasp, clutches frantically at my coat lapels. As the carriage tumbles over, we crash onto the roof with near bone-splitting force. The windows burst into a glitter of glass fragments as the coach screeches to a halt. I wrap my arms around Vanessa's small shoulders, cradling her closer into my chest.

Then… there's nothing.

An eerie silence descends on us, the only noise being our gasping breaths. I snap my gaze around, a sudden realisation hitting me like a stone to the head – it's far too quiet. No people, no wind, no horses… just a void of nothingness. I loosen my grip on Vanessa, lower my head to appraise her.

"You alright?" I ask in a rush. She nods, releasing her grip on my coat. "Come on, let's get out of here."

A deafening thud sounds from above. The carriage shudders and sways. Vanessa shoots a frightened frown at me. "What was that?" she asks.

I shake my head. " I don't know." And I realise with sinking dread that I honestly, truly do no know what it is. _All the more reason to get out of here!_

When I release Vanessa completely to crawl out through the carriage window, a foreboding feeling of something unnaturally wrong invades my senses. And all too quickly, I realise I'm too late when a pale, clawed hand grabs at Vanessa. With a cry, she's jerked violently through the opposite window and vanishes into the night.

"Vanessa!"

* * *

_Sooo... the dreaded cliffhanger... dun dun dun. _

_If you guys have any questions or comments, please feel free to send them on through. Much love! _


	3. Creatures In The Night

A/N: Wow… so, uhm… I'm sorry…? I really wish I could have uploaded this sooner, however, life threw me a horrible curve-ball in the form of personal issues. But, I have officially worked through them! So, hooray for me, I guess :D Anyway, I am uploading this chapter via my phone (never done it before, so I really hope this works) as I am currently not at home and won't be back until the 7th of July.

But, I just couldn't not upload and leave you guys hanging like I have for the past several weeks! It's appalling, I know. Alas, here I am, bearing the next lovely chapter for you guys. I'd love to know what you guys think so far, so please feel free to message me whenever :)

Anyway, enough ranting and on to the chapter! Enjoy!

I trip over the steaming entrails of the motionless horse in my haste to follow after Vanessa. A crushing fear grips at my heart with a vice-like grip. Grunting with effort, I stagger to my feet and into an urgent sprint. The muffled murmuring of shocked onlookers barely reaches my thoughts. My mind, my vision, narrows to only Vanessa.

"Vanessa!" I scream as her black dress vanishes behind an alley wall. I propell my way through the corner, reach for the trusty weapons at my waist and come to a stumbling halt at the sight that greets me. Sprawled out amongst a heap of rubbish, Vanessa stirs gingerly, favouring her right shoulder with a grimace.

Looming above Vanessa, the creature, as pale as ivory, body riddled with garish scars, snaps its otherworldly gaze in my direction. Hissing, it advances with terrifying purpose. I grip at my pistols with whitening knuckles, tense my jaw. I ready myself for the fight about to ensue, forcing myself to assess the situation. Vanessa is in obvious need of medical attention. Apart from her shoulder, her porcelain face is painted in red slashes, curving over her cheekbones. A trail of crimson traces a path down her forehead, over her eyebrow, into her eye... I feel my being tense with the need to rush forward, hold her close and whisk her off to safety.

But, this thing ain't goin' anywhere, I think. This situation can only be resolved one way - kill the creature, then get Vanessa to safety. With subtle stealth, I slowly pull my pistols from their holsters. The creature's gaze snaps to my hands, comes to a halt. And then, like the first ray of sunshine after a terrifyingly dark night, I see it. Clutched in the creature's clawed fist, a lock of Vanessa's hair dangles innocently. It notices my revelation and smiles with sinister intent.

"What the hell do you want?" I sneer. Vanessa catches my gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and something else, something desperate. A frown creases my sweaty brow as I take a step forward. I lift my guns into the air in front of me and notice the slight tremble in my hands.

"What seems to be the problem, kind Sir?" the creature mocks, head tilting to the side. Growling with frustration, I take another step forward.

"Afraid, are we?"

I shove the guns further forward. "Shut the fuck up! Why don't you just scurry along, before I blow your head off?"

The creature cackles, body relaxing in the slightest bit. I don't let this minute detail go unnoticed as I narrow my eyes, focusing. "Oh, but what would the fun be in that? No, I think I shall have some fun with you, instead."

Even before I have the time to blink, the creature flashes forward with a snarl. Vanessa shouts a desperate warning, but it comes too late. It all happens so fast; the creature slams into me, sending me staggering back several feet, before I loose my footing and tumble to the hard, cold ground. My guns clatter down with me, skidding with a metalic scrape too far away from my reach. I scramble frantically to reach for the weapons, when a pale foot steps on my hand. The creature bends to straddle my chest, ivory hand snapping forward to clutch at my throat. Smirking, it lowers its head closer to mine.

"Fun, isn't it?" the creature mocks.

I growl, struggling under the creature's surprisingly powerful grip. "Get the hell off me!"

A flash of silver arcs through the air, into the creature's bald head. Crying out in pain, it crashes to thr ground. Vanessa, breathing hard, stands on shaky legs, iron pipe clutched tightly in her quivering grip. Quickly, I scramble to my feet, grab for my guns. The pipe clatters to the ground with a loud, metallic ring. In the time it took me to reach for my pistols, the creature had retaliated with a bone cracking slam to Vanessa's already injured shoulder. Her cry of pain cuts straight through me.

What the fuck is wrong, Chandler? Protect her! I scold myself, rushing forward with a grunt. The creaure spins to face me with a wild look, stance widening. I'm so close, so close as I reach out and... grasp at thin air.

I spin around, searching frantically, but... it's just gone. Like it became nothing and everything all at once. Well... so much for leaving, I think.

***  
During all my time spent in London, hunting down evil spirits that lurk in the dark, fighting off demonic possessions, I have never witnessed Sir Malcolm as livid as he is now. Even before I rushed Vanessa into the safety of the mansion I had sensed him, his lingering anger interwoven with mild distaste, but… I had never expected to see this. I watch now, hidden in the shadows of the entrance hall, as he marches forward, reaching out desperately to Vanessa. His gaze travels over her form, much like mine did several times over, as he gently takes her trembling hand. Vanessa reassures him of her safety and falsely promises that she is alright. I notice some time later, that Sembene is oddly absent. Just then, Sir Malcolm's steely eyes harden as he lifts his head to look at me. No, not look, I think.

Glare.

I feel his anger boil to the surface, overflowing, spilling… uncontrolled. Before I realise what has happened, Sir Malcolm lurches forward, grabs two fistfulls of my overcoat and slams me back into the nearest wall. I grit my teeth, meeting his enraged glare head-on.

"Why are you here? What happened?" Sir Malcolm snaps, pushing me impossibly further into the wall. I grunt, surprised at the old man's strength.

"How 'bout we speak like civilised men, instead?" I retort, watching as Sir Malcolm clenches his jaw, scowl deepening. Finally, after much glaring, he releases me with a growl, steps back.

"Once Sembene has returned, we will discuss this." Sir Malcolm's gaze softens as he turns to look at Vanessa. "As for now, we need to clean those wounds."

I step forward, readjust my coat and slip my hands into the pockets there. "Agreed," I say. Sir Malcolm nods stiffly before vacating the room with haste. I clear my throat as Vanessa turns to stare at me, delecate arms wrapped around her chest. Avoiding the emotions I find swirling in those pale blue depths, I swing my gaze around to the drawing room, noticing the dancing flames of a cozy fire. I gesture with a jerk of my head. "Come on, let's sit you down."

I feel her follow me into the drawing room, so close I swear I can feel the heat radiating off her in wave after relentless wave. I sense her fear, burrowed so deep, clutching at her being with unrelenting force. Somewhere, in the darkest part of my soul, that place where thoughts go and never return, a voice warns me of things yet to come. Things that are born from fresh, unadulterated fear.

Things that haunt.

As Vanessa gingerly sinks into the leathery cushions of the couch, I descend into a kneeling position by the hearth, reaching out for the black, iron poker resting innocently against the wall. I stoke the fire, sparks pirouetting up… up. I become lost in the patterns they dance until Vanessa speaks almost timidly.

"I feel I must apologise," she says. I look up, frowning.

"What for, Miss Ives?"

"For Sir Malcolm's rather poor behaviour," she elaborates, thin fingers fidgeting with the seam at her shoulder. I shrug, sending her a wry smile.

"Oh, nothin' poor about that. In some way, I understand his anger implicitly."

Vanessa smiles, makes to lean forward and grimaces. I rise from my perch at the hearth, brow creasing. "We need to get that shoulder examined."

Vanessa sends me a dismissive wave. "I'm fine."

Sighing, I lower myself beside her. Never have I come across a woman as stubborn as Vanessa Ives, I think to myself. And perhaps with a little more admiration than intended, I realise. With a massive effort, I rein my feelings in.

And just in time.

Sir Malcolm enters the drawing room, a medicine cabinet cradled in his arms. A frown creases at his brow. "I'm afraid there isn't much, but it will have to do until the morning."

He places the box on the table before us, rummaging around in search of something. I sense his frantic tension and reach out. "Here, let me," I offer. Sir Malcolm comes to a slow stop, reluctant to hand the proverbial reins over. "Don't fret, I've seen much worse during my time in the war."

Sir Malcolm takes a seat with a heavy sigh, hand raking over his face. I grab hold of some cloth, wrap it around my pointer finger and then proceed to dip the end into some disinfectant. With my free hand, I touch two fingers to Vanessa's jaw, turning her head to the side. I dab lightly at the cut tracing a jagged path down her cheek, grimacing when she hisses in obvious pain.

"The Indians were merciless in their killing. They slaughtered any man, child or woman that crossed their paths, all without blinking. That was their ultimate weapon - killing without hesitation," I say, wiping at a trail of blood down Vanessa's temple. "We were like livestock to them."

My thoughts travel down that deep, dark road into pain and nothingness. All those people killed. All my brothers in arms, slaughtered, butchered.

All the blood on my own hands. Though they were very much our enemy, it didn't make them any less human. More so, in fact, when they chose to accept me as their own. Only to coldly betray them in a desperate effort to cease the war.

Vanessa's pale hand shoots out to grasp at my wrist when I dab too hard, her delicate eyebrows pulling into a frown. I murmur an apology, reining my thoughts back into their holding-cell locked deep within the confines of my mind. Vanessa holds my gaze with a gentle force, as if somehow sensing my train of guilt-ridden memories. Perhaps I should be thanking her, instead.

I clear my throat, casting aside the alcohol-drenched cloth. "Whatever attacked us tonight… well. It's like nothin' I've seen before."

Sir Malcolm leans forward. "Like the other creatures we faced before?" he asks. I shake my head, turning to watch the writhing fire in the hearth.

"No. This was… vastly different. It - she, spoke."

"She?"

"It taunted me, completely and utterly un-afraid," I elaborate. The mere memory of what that creature was capable of, sends cold fingers tracing down my spine. Beside me, Vanessa bristles. I feel a wave of tension engulf her form and watch as she rises from her seat. She strides towards the fire, arms clutching at herself. And suddenly, a feeling of dread washes over me. Slowly, I stand. Patiently, I wait.

"Vanessa?" I take a tentative step towards her. "You knew what that thing was, didn't you?"

Sir Malcolm comes to a stand, sends me a confused glance. The crackling fire slices through the thick silence suspended over the room.

"Vanessa," I urge.

"I don't know!" she snaps, spinning around to face us with wild eyes. "I don't know…"

Sir Malcolm and I share a look. I lift my hands, palms facing forward. "It's alright, everything is alright," I say. That voice probes at my conscience once again, more urgent now. This is nothing like Vanessa. Nowhere near the fiercely determined woman he had met several months ago. This… this was something akin to madness.

Vanessa lowers her gaze. "Please excuse me, gentlemen, I think I should retire for the evening."

Before either of us are able to reply, Vanessa rushes from the drawing room. I sigh, raking a hand over my face. Sir Malcolm steps forward, bending to re-pack the medical cabinet.

"Once Sembene returns, I shall call for Dr Frankenstein," Sir Malcolm says. I nod, not fully realising that he can't see my form of approval.

"And perhaps, you will explain in more detail the events that transpired," Sir Malcolm continues, rising to pin me with a fierce stare. I don't meet his gaze, too focused on the drawing room's entrance where Vanessa barged through moments before.

"Of course I will."

Sir Malcolm gives a stiff nod, gathers the medicine cabinet and makes to leave. And then, I snap out of my Vanessa-induced haze, determined to make my feelings known. Consequences or no, I cannot afford to leave. Not now, not ever. Vanessa needs my help, whether she denies it or accepts it.

Someone has to show her the way down that dark and troubling path that I have walked far too often.

"Sir Malcolm," I call, stopping the old man in his tracks. "I would like to make at least one thing clear, before the night is done."

Sir Malcolm turns around, his interest peaked. He arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to speak.

"I'm not leaving her side. We don't know what we're up against, or whether that thing will return, but… I'm not leaving. Not until I know she's safe."

I level Sir Malcolm with a hard glare, arms resting motionless at my sides. Sir Malcolm inhales deeply, contemplating my thoughts, however straightforward and brash they might be, I realise. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of tense-filled silence, Sir Malcolm speaks.

"Very well. You may take the guest room. And Mr Chandler, let me make something clear. Vanessa means everything to me. And, what is life without meaning?"

With that, Sir Malcolm leaves, careless to wait for my reply. Living under the same roof as this man might just be the end of me, I think. When had our ever-present animosity turned into something so full of distrust? I snort; the animosity I can deal with. However, as for the trust issues?

I bow my head with a deep sigh. At least we have one common goal - Vanessa Ives's safety. Now, that I most definitely can live with, I think in an attempt to reassure myself. Perhaps, by sharing this goal, we can attempt to amend this relationship, shape it into something better.

If he is willing.

*** Alright, there ya go! Please let me know what you think and also, I do apologise for any formatting weirdness - I'm posting this off a program called JotterPad.

Before I leave you guys, I do want to inform you of the fact that I am currently writing the next chapter and I truly do promise for it to be up a lot sooner than this one.

Cheerio! :D 


	4. A Slow Descent

A/N: Hello guys! Back again, and so much sooner this time. At the moment, I am suffering through a very slow torture - I have yet to watch the two latest episodes of Penny Dreadful. So, guess what I'll be doing once I get home ;)

Once again, please enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think.

I sip slowly at my whiskey, quietly observing the deserted streets below. A thick layer of snow had formed overnight, tranfsforming the world into a wintery-white wonderland. My shoulders sag with the exhaustion from staying up all night. It was either that, or we would have been on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome visit. Behind me, the crackling fire dances warmly, unable to permeate through the frostiness that has descended over the room… over our hearts. Clearing my throat, I turn around to face Sembene and Sir Malcolm.

"No. We're up against something darker, something… primordial. She was dangerously smart, completely and utterly able to think for herself. It wasn't just animal instinct that drove her. It was…" I trail off as my mind runs away with this thought, heart sinking heavily.

Sir Malcolm frowns. "What is it, Mr Chandler?"

I hesitate. "It's… it's like she was acting on orders."

I watch as a sense of dread washes over Sir Malcolm's face. Could my heart sink any lower than it already has? Sembene rises from his perch on the couch armrest, stoic facade always in place.

"She was hunting," Sembene explains. "And if you are right, Mr Chandler, then she is not the only one. I have seen this before, many times. The lions from my home hunted like this. Always together, always watching."

"So how did you fight these lions?" I ask. Sembene's mouth tightens into a thin line and for the briefest moment, the African's soft eyes cloud over.

"You don't, Mr Chandler. You never fight the lion."

I sigh, turning to stare into the blazing fire. Sir Malcolm remains where he is, posture rigid.

"But… "Sembene starts. As one, Sir Malcolm and I turn our gazes to Sembene. "You also never run from the lion. You must understand it and only then, can you stand your ground. This is the dance of The Lion."

I nod as I allow Sembene's words to sink in. If we can't fight them, we need to learn to understand them. But, first, we need to find them. And even then, climbing that mountain might prove hazardous. A cold sensation settles over my skin, sending tremors over my spine; what if that thing is watching us right now?

Just then, Dr Frankenstein strolls into the room, medical bag clutched tightly in one hand. I shove my thoughts aside, anxiety gripping at my muscles. "How is she?" I ask. Victor sends his red-rimmed gaze to me, a smile pulling at his pale lips.

"Everything seems to be in order. A few bruises here and there, some abrasions. All-in-all, Miss Ives seems to be perfectly fine."

I frown. "Seems?"

"Yes. Sir Malcolm, a word in private, if you will?" Victor asks, brushing my questioning stare aside. Sir Malcolm nods, leading the lanky doctor into the library. The door shuts with barely a click, engulfing everything else with a tense silence. I glance at Sembene, my frown still firmly in place.

Sembene has migrated to the fire, arms hanging limply by his side, back ram-rod straight. I swallow and wet my lips. "The way you spoke about your lions… did something happen?" I ask, almost tentatively. For a moment, the only sound that greets me is the crackling of the fire. Until…

"In my home village, there was a boy. He could not speak. Our shaman could not understand this, for it was not normal. 'How is it that his mother and his father have mouths to speak, but this Little One does not?' He had asked. The Gods did not answer. Perhaps even they did not know." Sembene turns around, his dark hazel eyes glimmering with memories of the past. I take a seat on the edge of an armrest, rest my whiskey glass over my thigh.

"This Little One always smiled, always laughed. He did not understand his curse, but in some way, he accepted his fate. I respected the boy for that, for he was strong. And Little One knew this. He became my friend, my student. But… this did not last. One night, Little One had wandered off."

I swallow hard, drop my gaze to the carpeted floor.

"We all heard the lion; its growls and grunts. And we all did nothing." Here, Sembene stops. I look up to find him staring at the floor. After a moment, Sembene swallows and continues. "On my hunt, the sky a pale blue, I found what was left of Little One."

"Jesus," I mutter.

Sembene turns back to the fire. I stare at his back for some time, unable to cast this boy from my thoughts. How afraid he must have been, having no way of calling for help. The door to the library opens, revealing a stern Sir Malcolm and a slightly concerned Victor. I fight desperately against the urge to ask of their conversation. Is Vanessa really alright?

Sir Malcolm sees Victor to the front door. They share muttered greetings before the door shuts. I step forward, lean against the door frame to the drawing room. Sir Malcolm, back leaning against the door, gaze pinned to the floor as if in deep thought, pays my presence no attention. "She's not really alright, is she?"

Sir Malcolm lifts his gaze to mine, remains quiet. His grey eyes flash as he spins around, reaching for his coat. "I will be back shortly."

Before I have the time to reply, Sir Malcolm rips the door open and rushes off. The door slams shuts with a bang. Sighing, I turn around. Sembene walks forward, a small smile stretching his full lips.

"You are going to need a room."

I smile in reply.

****  
Sembene had lead me upstairs, past Vanessa's shut bedroom door and down another hallway. I was relieved to find that my room was nothing more than a stone's throw away from Vanessa's.

Sembene offers to prepare my new bedroom for me, but I decline. Doling out chores to servants was something of the past. That was America, I think. Sembene seems surprised as he leaves with smiling eyes. When my bedroom door shuts, I sigh and rid myself of my guns, draping them gently over the couch at the foot of the bed.

Preparing the room doesn't take too long. I replace the sleeping materials with fresh linen, stopping to marvel at the smoothness of it. Sleeping above inns for so long, I had quickly learned to become accustomed to what they offered; a hard bed coupled with coarse, scratchy bedding. As I smooth my hand over the material before me, I feel my body sag with relaxation. Exhaustion sinks in, weighing over my body with a seductive pressure. Slowly, I lay down, close my eyes…

A loud crash startles me awake. I bolt upright, grab at the soft linen beneath my hands. From outside, silvery moonlight streams into the room. When a small groan echoes down the hall, I jump to my feet and race into the hallway with a panicked haste. How could I have allowed myself to fall asleep? Stupid!

I come to a stop in front of Vanessa's room, breaths escaping in shallow bursts. The door is closed, just like before. Slowly, I reach out, my hand trembling. An icy breeze flows into the room through an open window, the curtains fluttering. In the far corner of her room, lies the scattered shards of a lamp. I barely take note of this as my gaze lands on Vanessa. Dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown, huddled into a tight ball, she rocks back and forth. A string of muttered words, barely making any sense, spews from her delicate mouth. Her face glistens with a combination of sweat and tears, dark tendrils of hair plastered to the sides of her face and forehead. Is this what Victor and Sir Malcolm had spoken privately about?

"Vanessa?" I say quietly, afraid of startling her. She snaps her gaze up, eyes wild. This image sends me back to that fateful night, when she was not Vanessa. The same night I realised my feelings for this fiercely beautiful woman.

"… Ethan," she whispers brokenly. My heart clenches at her utterence of my name. With hasty strides, I reach her. I forget where I am, who I am, as I sit down before her and lift my hands to cradle her face. She gulps, her eyes fluttering shut.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Vanessa whimpers. "I… I had a dream. That they were here, with me."

"They?"

Her eyes snap open as she flashes her hands forward, grabbing desperately at my vest. "Yes, those things that hunt," she says. Vanessa's glistening eyes search my own, perhaps willing me to understand. But, how did she know there was more than one? In fact, what is she to them? How does she know them?

These questions force themselves to the forefront of my mind. If I am ever to help her, I must have the answers to these pressing questions. I rub at Vanessa's cheekbones with the pads of my thumbs, forcing the questions back... for now. What Vanessa needs now is calm reassurance, not a bombardment of questions.

"It's alright, there's no one here," I say, in the hopes of reassuring her enough to get her to relax. My plan fails when Vanessa vigorously shakes her head, hands clutching tighter.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I -"

"They could be anywhere!"

I drop my hands to her shoulders. "Vanessa -"

"They could be here, right now. Watching us. Watching me. What if -"

"Vanessa!" I urge, sqeeuzing her shoulders. She stops, tears flowing down her pale cheeks. "Listen to me. There's no one here. I promise you."

Vanessa bows her head, shoulders trembling. "I won't let anything hurt you, I swear it."

And I wouldn't, I realise. I would never let anyone or anything hurt her. The conviction this thought carries with it scares me. If anything did have to happen…

I lean forward to rest my forehead against her crown, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. A sound, so small and so broken, escapes from her. In response, I pull her in closer, moving to rest my cheek over her head. In the darkest part of my mind, a small part of me wonders at the oath I have made.

Will I truly be able to fulfill it?

****  
I close the door quietly behind me. It took a while for Vanessa to fall asleep, but when she did, she looked so peaceful. So beautifully devoid of her fierce scowl. I was reluctant to leave her side, almost physically unable to part with the calm her presence brings me.

When I turn around, Sir Malcolm is trooping his way down the hallway. "How is she?" He asks, coming to a slow stop a few feet ahead of me.

"She's alright. Woke up from a bad dream, is all."

Sir Malcolm nods. "Mr Chandler…"

I wait for Sir Malcolm to continue, stuffing my hands into the pockets in my trousers.

"I should apologise for my decidedly… questionable behaviour."

I shake my head. "Oh, it's quite alright. You were concerned, like any father would have been."

Sir Malcolm's steely eyes soften, just the slightest bit as he smiles. "And, you are more than welcome to stay for as long as you require."

"I will, thank you. You know… I had plans to leave. Entirely," I say. Sir Malcolm gestures for me to follow as he makes his way towards the staircase. We take the steps slowly, leisurely.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later, I knew that. My ability to stay in one place for longer than a year is shamefully astonishing."

At this, Sir Malcolm chuckles.

"But… what happened to Vanessa... I can't leave. Now now. Sir Malcolm, my time in the war has exposed me to many things, fear being one of them." I pause as we take the last few steps, turning to head for the drawing room. "It's a monster, that fear. It can eat its way through anything. And it doesn't stop, not ever. It leaves men defenceless, scarred."

Finally, we come to a stop in the entry-way to the drawing room. I send my gaze to the staircase as I continue. "In that room, lies a woman who faced down the devil himself. Not once did she blink, or quiver. And yet… here she is, now. That same woman. I fear for her sanity, Sir Malcolm. I've seen men try to fight fear. And I've seen them fail."

My voice trembles on that last word, so very loaded with different scenarios. And none of which appeal to me at all, I think. Surprisingly, Sir Malcolm reaches out to place a hand on my shoulder.

"But we will never give up, Mr Chandler. When Vanessa has grown tired, we will carry on for her. With a little help from this, of course," he says, sweeping his arm out to the side. Packed neatly on the table in the center of the room, lies a row of sturdy shotguns.

I smirk. "Oh, so that's where you ran off to."

In return, Sir Malcolm pats my shoulder, mouth stretching into a wide smile.

****  
And there ya go! So, I have a question for you guys, before I continue onto the next chapter - would you guys like me to alternate between both Ethan and Vanessa's POV's, or should I stick to Ethan's?

Please feel free to let me know, would love to hear what you guys think :)

Cheerio!


	5. Master and Slave

A/N: So... Hello? I'm really sorry for leaving you guys hanging like that, but to be honest, I kinda lost the inspiration to carry on with this story. But, I'm back and I'd like to give a special thanks to MsLanaParrilla - your review really got me off my ass (to put it quite bluntly) and helped me in getting just the right inspiration to carry on with this story. I would also like to thank Little Red, Natalie, queryl, andalusa and CrowJane for the reviews. I'm sure you guys understand exactly how much that means to us writers!

Alright, here it is, the next chapter. It's not as long as some of the others and nothing really happens, but this is an important transition phase (if I could put it that way) for both Vanessa and Ethan. Hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think! :)

000

My hand smarts as I shove it under the small stream of water. I grit my teeth, wiping away at the seemingly never-ending flow of blood. _It was for my own_ _protection_, I remind myself. With a shaky grasp, I turn the tap off, the metal squeaking. Slowly, I reach out for the neatly hung towel to my left, wrap it around my cradled hand. The flesh stings in annoyance. I grimace and lift my head. Reflecting back at me, in the aged mirror with it's thousands of tiny scratches, is a face I once remember to have looked fuller, happier.

I frown at my gaunt appearance, my gaze flitting from the dark circles underneath my eyes, to the deep gash that mars my left cheek.

Dr Frankenstein was more than able to tend to my physical wounds, his hands moving in their deft patterns, quick and careful all at the same time. But when he was done, he could not meet my gaze. My brow furrows in thought. The way he had stopped and started, it was almost as if the doctor had more on his mind than he let on. Dr Frankenstein never was a man for words. I allow a slight smile to pull at my dry, chapped lips. Yes, with the kind doctor, actions really do speak much louder. I sigh and drift from the washroom. Although Dr Frankenstein had no trouble patching me up, there was nothing he could do for the deeper scarring. And perhaps he knew that all too well. There's absolutely no doubt he had a word with Sir Malcolm afterwards, I think to myself.

I shut my bedroom door with a hushed click, my gaze flicking to the wooden cross over my shoulder. How much longer will I cling to that God and all his empty promises? Could I ever live without him? I feel my mind become heavy with dark thoughts, clouding my judgement, encompassing my being in a terrifyingly alluring embrace. _Yes_, a Voice answers, a seductive whisper in my ear.

_Let go_, it urges. _Come to me_…

"No," I hiss, shaking my head. I drag myself to my haphazardly made bed and gingerly worm my way into the sheets. Naturally, my gaze finds the cross pendant. I scowl at the way it innocently rests against the wall. And then, my thoughts flip to Joan and her many pendants.

_The storm rages outside, gale-force winds smacking against the little cottage. The cold seeps through the cracks in the walls, engulfing the cottage in a freezing blanket. I help the Cut Wife up the rickety stairs, her wrinkly hand gripping hard at the railing as we ascend. I come to a stop on the last step, my gaze roaming the loft with its many trinkets and books. The Cut Wife ambles towards her bed, undressing quickly to avoid the cold. _

"_You never forget," the Cut Wife mutters. I turn my head to stare at her with a frown. The Cut Wife gestures stiffly to all the pendants hanging limply from the roof. "They remain with you always, a burden to weigh you down for the rest of your life." _

"_No, not a burden. A relief," I say, my frown deepening. The Cut Wife rips her bed sheets back with a bitter scoff._

"_You have much to learn, girl."_

_I sigh and step forward to help her into bed. Gently, I bring the covers up to her chin and smooth the material down as I sit on the edge of her mattress. "God is always willing. He has a plan, for all of us," I whisper, a smile pulling at my lips. The Cut Wife stares at me, her gaze unflinching, hard. _

_My smile falters. _

"_Empty promises, made by a false God. There is no plan, girl. Not for me, not for you. Out there, your God holds no sway, for what plagues you cannot be defeated by faith!" _

"_If that is so, then why do you cling to these things?" I retaliate, rising from my perch beside her. The Cut Wife's gaze softens, her dual-coloured eyes sparkling with the shimmers of nostalgia. _

"_Always there, always a reminder." _

"_A reminder of what?"_

"_That they could not save you. Remember this, girl; what you are will never change and neither will your God. You don't cling to your faith because you believe. No! You cling to the idea of what it could have been, of how it used to be. And then you drown in your dreams of salvation." _

_Lightning paints the sky in a brilliant flash of pale blue, casting brief, flickering shadow across the room. The Cut Wife looks menacing with the shadows playing over her weathered face, her fierce gaze holding mine in an unrelenting grip. I match her scowl with one of my own, my hands clenching into tight balls of fists. _

"_You are right about one thing; I will never forget, for as long as I live. But I will never stop believing. Never!" I snarl. _

_When the Cut Wife remains silent, I spin around and stomp my way down the stairs. _

She was right, of course she was. How could I have been so foolish? _But, I_ _was so terrified_, I remind myself with a half-hearted conviction. Quiet rapping at my bedroom door startles me from my thoughts.

"Vanessa?" Ethan's voice floats through the door. My heart jolts, his voice sending waves of warmth throughout my body. _Oh, Ethan… my sweet, sweet Ethan. _

"I've prepared some tea. Would you like a cup?"

I shut my eyes, forcing myself to remain quiet. It's for his own protection. My presence in this house will only continue to draw further attention. And if I stay, eventually it will bring death.

Ethan sighs, knocking on the door again. "Vanessa? Please, just… At least tell me if you're alright?"

I clench my jaw and grind my teeth.

"That's it, I'm comin' in," he threatens, the door handle twitching. My eyes snap open as I sit bolt upright.

"No!"

"Vanessa, just let –"

"Leave me alone! In fact, you shouldn't be here, Mr Chandler. You… should just leave," I force the words from my quivering lips. On the other side of the door, I am greeted with a hollow silence. My brow furrowing, I fall back into bed, the tears threatening to fall.

_It's not safe to let anyone in_, I decide. It never will be and that is why I must walk alone.

000

Frowning, I run my hand through my hair. I make to leave and then stop, sending Vanessa's bedroom door a strange look over my shoulder. How could she even think like that? I would never leave her, not at a time like this.

With a sigh, I make my way down the hall, to my own bedroom, thoughts folding and unfolding in my mind. That day at the church, when I had asked Vanessa for her help, comes barrelling down on me, like a freight train unable to stop, crashing its only inevitable outcome.

It's too dangerous to let anyone over those walls, even for Vanessa. _No,_ _especially for Vanessa,_ I correct myself. I need to stop what I'm doing, what I've been doing and re-evaluate my life. I shut the bedroom door behind me and glance at the dusky sky through a window, the hazy image of the half-moon staring at me, all-knowing.

The sensation of icy fingers raking down my spine sends shivers through my body. It's less than a few weeks away.

My living nightmare. The one thing that threatens my happiness. I come to a firm stop before the window, my gaze never leaving the moon. And it's on this day, at this very hour, that I make my decision.

Vanessa is better off without me; I can never be with her. My heart clenches painfully at the thought, but my mind stands fast. This is the only way I can protect her. My mind falters back to her demand, shouted at me through her closed bedroom door.

"_You… should just leave."_

There are far too many things that go bump in the night for me to leave. Maybe when this is all over, I'll head back to America, to my home… The thought terrifies me, but what else can London offer me but its cold, stony streets? Sometimes, I find myself craving for that feeling of the hot, Mexican sun at my back, the wind in my hair as I gallop through the desert. Lately, those memories have become somewhat fleeting, difficult to hold onto.

Like water spilling through my fingers, no matter how tight I press my fingers together.

Sighing, I cast my thoughts aside and leave my perch at the window. Tomorrow is another day and perhaps he'll find it easier trying to draw Vanessa from her room then. _Maybe she'd fancy a walk_, I think to myself, a gentle smile pulling at my lips.

_Don't get too comfortable, though_.

My smile falters. Right… Now, why on earth would I ever do that?


	6. Trials and Tribulations

A/N: Ok, this is seriously long overdue, but I think - and I'm pretty sure I speak for everyone here - that series finale left me really down. I've just recently gotten back into the whole writing routine, so you guys can expect faster updates from now on. Also, since the series ended quite a while ago, I'll soon be delving into somewhat of a rewrite of seasons 2 and 3 (I mean, let's face it, our characters deserved waaayy better).

Anyway, please do enjoy!

* * *

The drawing room is bathed in a deep, orange glow. Outside, an icy rain pelts the earth. The company is deathly quiet, hanging onto Vanessa's every word.

"It was much later, after my forced stay in that… wretched house of horrors, when I heard rumours of a witch. It seemed my path would always, inexplicably lead to her, this Cut-Wife, this woman of the night," Vanessa pauses, her eyes lost in the dancing flames in the hearth. Tendrils of smoke swirl around her head from her seemingly forgotten cigarette. My eyes find the gash on her cheek, garish against her porcelain complexion. I feel my body tense; two days ago, I, Ethan Chandler, experienced true fear. Not the kind that leaves your heart fluttering, or your breaths short. It's more the kind that keeps you up at night, while it gnaws at your insides. Not even the act of murdering hundreds of innocent souls in a bloody war came close to this feeling.

And now, two days later, I feel weary with fatigue right down to my bones.

"She taught me everything I know. She prepared me for the evils yet to come. And come, they did. I was powerless as they burned her alive, a witch at her stake. And when their wicked deed was done, they left. I never glimpsed their faces. But the Cut-Wife warned me of their kind."

Vanessa takes a long drag on her cigarette. "Nightcomers," she breathes, the smoke following her words in a swirling cloud. Sir Malcolm takes a seat in the chair beside her, brow furrowed.

"Servants of the night, mere pawns to the Devil, but a force to be reckoned with," Vanessa elaborates. I lean forward in my seat, a nervous aggravation clawing at my being.

_Pawns to the_ _Devil? Fuck me_, I think.

When I notice Vanessa's free hand fidgeting with her nightgown, I realise how much trouble we're in. If Vanessa is this frightened, we should all be running for the hills by now.

Dr Frankenstein turns away from his vigil at the open window, a loud scoff on his lips. "And these… Nightcomers, creatures, or whatever the hell we're calling them, they killed your friend and now they're after you?"

Vanessa clenches her delicate jaw, her pale eyes glimmering with unshed tears. My heart aches terribly at the sight. I send Dr Frankenstein a disapproving look, not liking the sound of his tone. "Yes."

"And who are these creatures?"

"I don't know."

Victor shakes his head with a derisive laugh. I clench my fists, sensing where this is going even before it happens.

"Guess what, everyone? We're fighting an invisible enemy."

I snap to my feet and advance on the scrawny doctor. Sembene takes a cautious step forward. "Alright, how 'bout you calm the fuck down?"

Victor spins to face me, his eyes cold with indifference. "This is ludicrous!"

I step into Victor's personal space. From the corner of my eye, I notice Vanessa and Sir Malcolm get to their feet.

"Ethan…" Vanessa softly cautions.

Staring down at Victor, bravely standing his ground – albeit very tentatively – I know I won't hurt the kind doctor. Besides, I would be hurting Vanessa more than I would be hurting him. And I would never do anything to hurt her… How can he be so cold, though? He saw what that thing did to Vanessa, how could he refute it now?

"Are you calling Miss Ives a liar?"

Sir Malcolm hastily wedges himself between us, pushing at my chest. "Gentlemen, I think that's quite enough. We should be fighting those creatures, not each other."

Victor looks contrite, his gaze falling to the floor. I simply clench my jaw and pin the doctor with a hard frown.

"My apologies. I simply meant to state that the situation is ludicrous. If you'll excuse me, I have much to do," Victor mumbles to the floor. He strides from the drawing room, grabs his coat and disappears into the cold night. Vanessa shoots a scolding glare my way before moving closer to the hearth, presenting us with her back. Well, now it seems I have two people to apologise to. I file the thought for later consideration.

Sir Malcolm's wide eyes fall on the clock. "Good Heavens, will you look at the time?" he chuckles to himself. "I should hurry, or else I'm going to be embarrassingly late."

I frown. "We should stay here and protect Vanessa."

"Mr Chandler, there's been no sign of that creature for the last two days, now."

Sir Malcolm rushes from the drawing room. I make sure to follow. "That doesn't mean they're not hunting. We need to be prepared," I urge. Sir Malcolm sighs, reaches for his coat.

"Mr Chandler… I really must go."

"Wait, Sir Mal-"

Sir Malcolm places a hand on my shoulder. "I feel confident that you have everything under strict control," he interrupts, eyes shining with mirth. Before I have the thought to reply, Sir Malcolm closes the front door behind him. I glance towards Vanessa. She stares almost forlornly at the window.

I know I have everything under control… it's Vanessa I'm worried about. I stare, without really paying attention, as Sembene joins Vanessa by the fire, his mouth forming words I can't hear.

At a time like this, when Vanessa needs Sir Malcolm the most, he runs off to sate his certain… manly urges. I've known for a few days, now. It was subtle, at first. But the smell of _other_ was there, in hints. Soon enough, his entire demeanour changed – light-hearted jesting, smiling eyes… Vanessa caught on rather quickly after that.

Sembene approaches, his stoic façade showing the slightest signs of breaking. "Some coffee?" he asks, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Vanessa. I follow his gaze and nod gratefully.

"That's very kind, thank you."

Sembene lingers, hands folded behind his rigid back. "These creatures… they are like lions."

"How so?" I ask with a frown, not entirely sure where Sembene is going with this.

"The way they hunt, it is the same. I've seen it many times… the female lions are cunning. They are always observing, always planning. They work as a unit and that makes them dangerous," Sembene turns to stare at Vanessa. When he continues, his voice is hushed.

"They separate the leader of the herd, until all that remains is confusion and chaos," Sembene meets my gaze with a dire frown. "That is when they strike."

"You think Sir Malcolm's change in behaviour is due to their involvement?"

"I think we should be alert."

When Sembene leaves, my mind is reeling. What if Sembene's right? What if that thing is watching us right now? An animalistic urge to protect what is mine surges through my being. I hurriedly join Vanessa by the fire, my shoulder brushing with hers. She throws me a questioning look, her eyes almost playful.

"Everything alright, Mr Chandler?"

I realise how close I am when I notice the light, barely discernable freckles scattered along her cheekbones. I clear my throat and take an awkward step back. Frantic to steer the topic away from myself, I focus instead on Vanessa.

"I should be asking you the same, Miss Ives."

Vanessa scoffs, her eyes falling to the dancing flames in the hearth. "I should be familiar with it, this feeling. It seems life will always be pitted against me."

My thoughts fly back to her earlier comment. _That wretched house of horrors…_ My heart aches at the thought of what might have happened to Vanessa. Her past calls to me, with all its dark terrors. I feel a horde of question rip through my conscience… No, there's a time and place for certain things in this world. And this is one of them. When Vanessa's ready, she'll talk.

I sigh. With heavy limbs, I take a seat on the couch. "Life is a cruel master. It's like a whip at your back, always herding you along. A punisher, but also a teacher. This might sound cruel, but I take comfort in the fact that you're familiar with this kind of life."

Vanessa turns around, her pale eyes hard. I sink lower into the couch and tilt my head back.

"A soldier familiar with his surroundings, with the dangers that lurk close by, is a strong soldier."

I feel the couch dip beside me. "Mr Chandler?" Vanessa's voice is quiet and tentative. I simply hum in acknowledgement, my eyelids heavy. "Thank you. For helping me."

My eyes slide shut, a smile stretching my lips. Vanessa's presence feels like a soothing balm and I find myself struggling against the tempting pull of sleep. "Gladly, Miss Ives."

It doesn't take long at all for sleep to claim me…

_I see Vanessa, a dream in a white dress, a broad smile stretching her lips as she turns around to greet me. _

"_Ethan," she whispers. _

_Behind her, a dark mass approaches. I reach out to her. _

"_Vanessa," I try to scream, but the words come out as a strangled whisper. _

I snap awake. To my side, teacup in hand, Vanessa watches me with a strange expression. Dazed with sleep, I run a hand down my face and push myself up. I throw a glance at Vanessa, her eyes still focused on me.

I frown. "What?"

Vanessa averts my gaze, a small smile stretching her lips. "Nothing," she breathes. When I notice a light blush spreading over her cheeks, I sit back with amused eyebrows raised. I'm about to reply, when I feel it.

An icy touch ripples down my spine. The small hairs on the nape of my neck stand to attention. I push myself to my feet, hands clenched at my sides. I throw my eyes around the room.

"Mr Chandler?"

I spin around. "Vanessa, get behind me."

She wastes no time. With wide eyes, Vanessa rushes to my side, her dainty hands flashing forward to clutch at my arm.

"Something doesn't feel right," I mutter. "We're not-"

There's a screech. And suddenly, I'm lying above Vanessa, my arms braced alongside her head. I snap my head up, just in time to see a nightcomer melt into existence. It's glowing, green eyes lock onto mine. Without any preamble, it rushes forward.

I grab Vanessa under her arms. In one deft movement, I pull her up and spin us around. Claws latch onto the skin of my back as the creature gives one mighty pull. I fly through the air, crash into the glass cabinet.

I groan as my body tilts forward, glass piercing through my skin. I break my fall on trembling hands and knees.

Vanessa shouts a desperate plea. My body vibrates with a mad energy. I jump to my feet and come face-to-face with a nightcomer. With unimaginable strength, the creature clutches at my throat and lifts my body off the ground. Gasping, I grab onto the creature's hand, pulling wildly. I realise my attempts are futile, when the nightcomer's grip tightens.

Off to the side, Vanessa stumbles backward as another creature slashes at her chest. My oxygen-deprived mind reels. _No, Vanessa… _

Vanessa barely has time to recover, when the creature tackles her to the ground. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, Sembene comes to my aid. _No,_ _help Vanessa first_, my mind screams. He brings his blade down in one fell swoop, the weapon cutting cleanly through the creature's arm. The creature wails and staggers back, hot blood spraying down my front.

I cough violently, but force myself up. The creatures vanish. Our laboured breathing fills the room. Vanessa pushes herself up, her chest heaving. She shoots a bewildered glance my way. I make to join her, the heavy silence too oppressive.

A sharp pain stops me in my tracks and before I can help it, a groan rips through my throat. Sembene places a hand on my shoulder, concern shining through his stoic exterior. Vanessa moves to the open window, reaches up to close it. There's a flash of pale, scarred flesh and suddenly, the creature leans in through the window.

Vanessa doesn't flinch. Before Sembene can even think to rush forward, a string of unintelligible words fly from Vanessa's mouth. The creature shrinks back, eyes growing wide in fear. With a screech, the nightcomer disappears. Vanessa turns around, pale-faced. I take a few tentative steps forward.

"Miss Ives, are you alright?"

Vanessa shakes her head. "It is as I feared."

Sembene and I trade bemused glances. "What do you mean?" I ask.

Her eyes glint like steel in the orange glow of the firelight. "I know what they're after."

* * *

There you guys have it! I've already started with chapter 7, so, you can expect that very soon :)


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